


When We Were Young

by Hotspur



Category: Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - World War II, Childhood Friends, F/M, Saturnalia 2014, childhoodf friends falling in love, good thing i ended up on a huge brutus/portia kick this week, saturnalia2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotspur/pseuds/Hotspur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturnalia 2014 gift for Madqueenalanna on tumblr- Brutus/Portia, childhood friends fall in love.</p><p>Brutus and Portia have always shared a bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> My Saturnalia gift was for Madqueenalanna, who wanted a story about Brutus and Portia being childhood friends who fall in love. That just happens to be my favorite pairing ever so this was a delight to fill. That scenario is basically what happened in history but after some false starts I ended up with a WWII/1940s period au. And I, uh, ended up with part of it being based on the ultra-sappy song "Fields of Gold" by Sting because I've always associated that song with this pairing and it has a childhood sweethearts vibe to it. Hope you enjoy it, Alanna!
> 
> (Plus reading The October Horse this week gave me massive Brutus/Porcia feels so finishing this I had even more emotions)

There’s a special bond formed when you’re young together. The shared experiences, joy and pain, of childhood are seared into the souls of two people as they grow up and remain in their memories for eternity. And sometimes, every once in a million lives (or so it seems), this contributes to whatever inner workings make two people soul mates. 

Brutus didn’t realize this, of course, because as children emotional bonds are so strong as to be completely taken for granted- of course Portia was his best friend, they’d always been that way, and there would never come a time when they weren’t.

They used to run through the woods near the estate Brutus’ family owned, armed with their imaginations and the weapons of childhood- a short stick was a dagger, a long one a sword. Summers ended in a glorious blaze when they were children, ever so gently cooling down into an even more magical fall. They were just kids.

-

“Come on, don’t fall asleep!” Portia nudged Brutus. 

“Huh? I’m not falling asleep,” Brutus said, opening his eyes. He looked back up at the sky and watched the clouds roll lazily across the blue expanse. They were lying in a field of grass, near the barley fields. The fields were painted gold with the setting sun, a west wind gently bending the stalks of barley. Brutus looked down at their hands, which were intertwined. When had that happened? It didn’t matter. 

“I suppose we should get back,” Portia said. “You know how my dad is…”

“Yeah,” Brutus let go of her hand and immediately missed the warmth. He stood up and stood in a slight daze, watching Portia set off through the barley field. She stopped and looked back at him. 

“Coming?” She asked. Brutus hurried up to join her as they walked in fields of gold. 

-

“Remember the book we read?” Portia asked.

“Which one?” Brutus replied. They were out in the woods, and Brutus was balancing on a fallen log.

“The one about Troy,” Portia said. “The _Iliad_.”

“Yeah,” Brutus said. “Of course. Want to play that?”

“Sure! I’m tired of _Antigone_ ,” Portia said. “There’s nothing to do in that one. Who do you want to be?”

“I’ll be Hector,” Brutus said, jumping off the log. 

“That makes me Andromache,” Portia said, following Brutus.

“Don’t you want to be Paris or Achilles?” Brutus asked. Andromache was Hector’s wife who never saw any action.

“Paris is a brat,” Portia replied, “and Achilles is mean.”

So they played as Hector and Andromache, and Portia pretended to be in love with Brutus. Brutus pretended he was going off to war, but war lasted only a few swipes and jabs of a stick-sword. He returned triumphant and Portia cheered. They were children yet, and didn’t know war. Brutus would never admit it, but much like what Andromache was to Hector, Portia was to him.

He always let her tug him around by the hand, she joined him reading books and together they planned great adventures. They were made for each other. They didn’t know, they just lived that fact.

-

“Brutus!” Portia hissed.

Brutus looked up from his pillow, confused. His eyes refused to adjust to the darkness. “Portia?” He mumbled. It was the middle of the night, and rain drummed on the roof and lightning flashed far away. 

“Yeah. Can- can I sleep with you?” She asked, sheepishly.

“Uh…”

“I don’t like storms,” Portia said. “I’m scared.”

“Come here, then,” Brutus said, lifting his blanket. She crawled underneath it and nestled next to him. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her shaking from fear as each new thunderbolt exploded in the sky. “It’s going to be okay,” Brutus heard himself mumble. He felt a strange, warm feeling in his soul and began to wonder if maybe he was falling in love with Portia.

But of course, they were just kids.

-

Brutus went away to the academy to study years later. 

“I gotta go because they’re telling me I have to,” Brutus said, not wanting to look at Portia. They were out in their favorite field, and Brutus had to say good bye to her.

“But you can go to school here!” Portia argued. “You don’t have to go away!”

“My uncle’s paying my schooling,” Brutus replied, “and besides, I’ll be back each holidays.” He reached out and took her hand and he realized how big he was next to her; his hands, at least. Hers were so small and delicate and usually stained with ink from writing. Brutus was suddenly very aware of the awful acne on his face and how pretty she was, with a new bow in her deep brown hair and gray eyes she’d inherited from her father. 

“But you’ll write to me, of course?” She asked, privately afraid that he’d grow up and not like her anymore.

“Of course,” he replied.

Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him quickly, the first kiss either ever had.

He sent a great many letters back home, but most of them were for Portia. He missed her. He missed being able to play with her in the field and pretending they were in the _Iliad_. Then war came, and he was sent off to work with his uncle, a grumpy old philosopher. Brutus didn’t talk about it but he was terrified as he heard reports of the battle for his island, and most horrifyingly it was in the air. Bombs dropped on his home and he didn’t know if Portia was safe.

-

There finally was word that the battle ended and the island stood. There were whispers that the High King had indeed returned to save his kingdom, this time in a fat bulldoggish man with a cigar. Finally a letter came through and Brutus learned that Portia was alright. He was overjoyed but soon the reality that the war was not over sank in and he knew he wouldn’t see her for an eternity.

He found himself worrying, a bit, that she’d met some handsome squaddie and fallen in love and now she was sending letters to him, complete with cutesy love poems and perfume. He wasn’t sure why he was thinking of this, imagining a whole scenario where… but he always snapped back to reality. Portia was his best friend, and that was all. He just wanted her to be happy.

-

After six years the war came to an end. A madman killed himself in his hiding place. A new Caesar was murdered and left to the mob to destroy his corpse. Another monster remained. Brutus returned home as the streets were lined with cheering people and flags. The High King would be deposed by democracy later but Brutus never knew why.

And Brutus walked through the streets, looking forward to seeing his family and Portia. He hoped the shop her father owned was still there- it was a bookshop, full of dreams and truth. But more than that it meant Portia. 

And it still stood, if a little damaged. Cato’s, it was called. As soon as Brutus walked through the door a flash crossed the floor and tackled him. 

“You’re home!” Portia exclaimed, holding him tight. He hugged her too, and felt as if she would never let him go, which was fine by him. And then, almost by accident, they were kissing, and Brutus was breathing her in. 

He was indeed home.

She’d worried greatly for him, and only in private admitted that the upsetting separation nearly drove her mad. Portia had always been a little distracted, more easily upset, and very passionate about things. When she told him about how she thought she was going mad during those years, he just hugged her and reassured her that she was saner than the whole world. After all, she had the good sense to not invade huge, cold countries.

-

They fell truly in love that year, as they sat amongst the books in the shop and caught up. He now tried to make a name for himself in the courts. She’d grown beautiful in the years they’d been apart- or maybe she’d always been beautiful, and he’d been too close to her for him to notice. Brutus could never say what he felt, or explain why he stared off into space and sighed for no reason. He was in love, but he didn’t know it. In fact, he’d always been in love, even as a child.

“I love you,” she whispered one day. They were out in their favorite field, lying on the ground with some books.

“I love you too,” Brutus said, not paying attention to what he was saying. He’d been engrossed in his book. When Portia didn’t reply for a few minutes, he realized the awkward silence and looked up at her. 

“I love you,” she said again, this time in a stronger voice. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, even though she wanted to look away- she was too scared of how he would respond this time. Maybe he didn’t love her. 

But Portia had said what he couldn’t, and he reached for her and kissed her. He wanted her to stay with him forever, to be his love. She fell into his arms and he threw his book aside as he kissed her deeply, trying to stop the happy tears from spilling. For many that would be the end of childhood, but for Brutus and Portia it was a return to that joy and innocence. They’d finally found peace.


End file.
